bluebells
by even your tears were so pretty
Summary: A thing for the wonderful Convergence forum. Really just a strange compilation of a few random mindspaces of my characters, because bluebells are known for gratitude and everlasting love.
1. Chapter 1

If anything, Cecily Herondale thought that she would've adapted to change at this point. It kept life fresh and turning, kept the people new and unpredictable and that only made her love them more because it was the thing that made her realize that they were _flawed._ And that was a beautiful thing. In her wide-eyed, childish according to her brother, and for the most part, innocent point of view.

And then there were the times when she'd genuinely thought that new beginnings would break her, at some point or another - like when she'd first entered the world with wide eyes, shivering from the cold. Because she couldn't find anything to take out of those situations, which was truly saying something considering the fact that she'd managed to make her sister's death better, in her childhood. She'd managed to make her brother's disappearance and later, his curse, into something brighter because she knew what would happen if she didn't and she didn't want to drop that low, honestly; thought it was cowardly, thought it was stupid, was determined that she'd never drop to a point that dark in her life. But what did she know? She was young, and naive, most likely, and even if there was something bright about the snow surrounding her then she might've not wanted to put in the effort to find it.

 _Why was it worth it?_

 _Why did it hurt more to try than to give up?_

She wasn't who she used to be - maybe when she was first born, and she saw everything through her bright blue eyes and really, nothing bad had happened to her yet to make her believe that maybe everything wouldn't be okay, for once. She had parents who loved her dearly and just wanted to keep them all safe from the people they thoroughly believed were monsters. She had older siblings that would coo at her and stare down at her with the same beautiful blue eyes. She had a home, even if it was small; because it was worth it, the warm nights with them that she didn't realize were so valuable until everything fell away.

At first, she was sure that everything had fallen away to darkness. But she still tried, after all; because she was still a young child on the face of the world and she couldn't bear to believe that maybe life really didn't care what happened to her, or how hurt her family was. She grew up in a lonely mindspace, more so than everything, her nourishments afternoons staring out the windows at the beautiful rolling countryside outside. All of it was beautiful, and maybe in an alternate reality, perfect; but that wasn't the reality she lived in and she didn't really want to accept that. So she didn't. For a little while.

And then there were times when she gave herself in; closed her eyes and decided to make the jump into something that she could only describe as a void waiting to engulf her, pure blackness that she, for some unapparent reason, wasn't scared of. She was willing to do it, even. Because those were the moments when the more childish side of her came out and she promised herself that if she put trust and faith in life, then things would turn out her way. Maybe it was that sort of mindspace or maybe she would just be convincing herself of false things, but when she relaxed enough to do so then she found that she could be _happy_. There would be things that made her happy; people, the ones who'd managed to change her for the better in ways she didn't even know were possible before.

But she was always glad, at the end of it all. She was always glad if she'd cried over things that hadn't occurred to her before she'd been forced to see it, or she was always glad if she met someone new that she had already placed in her mind as a friend for the sake of trusting them with all her tiny little heart. It took time, to be able to reflect on it to a point where she just understood that she was happy that everything had happened but it always happened, anyway. And when it did, her eyes would widen with wonder and she'd smile to herself and thank life that she was so _lucky._

 _Lucky._

 _The stars must've blessed me tonight._


	2. Chapter 2

Cecily Herondale knew what loss was.

She thought the sad thing was really that she'd known for so many years, ever since she was a child, because loss had been given to her in the form of punishments so many times at a young age that she thought she'd progressed more than more adults, even, who thought that she didn't understand anything when really she was pushing herself to be strong enough not to cry. She wanted to be strong. She wanted to show that nothing could break down her walls but if she really thought about it, really pondered over it, then it was fairly easy to see that this wasn't really the case.

That hurt her more than the loss did in the first place.

They all thought that she wouldn't be able to tell the difference - they all thought that they could show her lies and fake smiles and that she would actually believe that everything was okay. She could see why she gave them that impression, yes, because she was young and more often than not mistaken for stupid; but she wasn't, really. She was intelligent enough to know that things were painted over solely for her eyes. She understood.

So whenever someone went up to her and told her a story, believing that she wouldn't truly empathize, she would prove them wrong. She would stare at them with wide blue eyes and promise them two things:

 _I won't try to butter things up for you. The truth is the truth and the truth hurts, especially since there's nothing in our power to morph it into something else; so all you can really do is pass it the best you can, head held high so that one day when you look back at this moment you will regret nothing._

 _And I'll be there for you, every step of the way. Because I know what it feels like to want to close your eyes forever and push everything out of your mind for the sole fact that it hurts. But it hurts less if there's someone else to help carry the weight._

And when she made a promise with that stubborn little mind of hers, she would keep it.

Being experienced with loss meant nothing, however, when it came to going through it again. It didn't mean you were prepared for it any more, and it didn't mean that it pained you any less. You just understood, at that point, that it was _necessary._ That was enough for Cecily to know, really, because if she thought anything else about it then the situation that she'd put herself in could've been something much worse than it actually was, and it was already something that she wanted to deny being her fault in the first place. But she couldn't, partly out of care for the one she'd hurt, and partly to salvage the rest of her dignity she had left. The rest of her honor. If she'd messed up, she wouldn't do so any further.

She knew what love was. Her brother had thought that she didn't, thought that she didn't really love him but she couldn't simply just stop and when she realized that, still at such a young age just as with everything else she'd done, she understood that it was a valuable piece of information almost instantly and held it close to her. She could recognize love, now, true and in its purest form because there'd been a beautiful point in her life where she was just surrounded by it. Love made everything brighter, made colors more vivid and, therefore, the world just more beautiful as a whole and that was one of her favorite things about it. Love made everything better because it was so rare, so hard to come by.

When she fell in love, she actually hadn't noticed it at first; had took all the signs to be that she was finally just being happier with herself, with her life, and everything else. She hadn't noticed it until her lips had brushed by someone's by the name of Dexterous LaFevers and she knew, at that point in time, sitting in front of his cabin with a picnic he'd set up just for her, that this was love. It had to be. Nothing could feel this strong pulsing in her chest besides something that she was all too familiar with so yes, she was in love.

All her other losses, she thought, were just cruel twists of fate, never exactly her fault though she always blamed herself for them, just like her brother. This one was completely on her own, though, when she'd lost him for her own reasons that she couldn't explain. She needed to explain them to him, though, in order for him to forgive her, and she hadn't done that yet; hadn't made everything better even though with every passing day it was just getting worse. She wasn't sure why, because there was a multitude of things that it could be; maybe she was just scared, above all, that he wouldn't react the way she wanted him to and she would fall into a hole deeper than the one she'd created already.

But every day passed by, still, because time didn't stop for a single person. If it did, the world would never move. So she made herself a silent promise, one night.

 _I think of you too often. So it's time, I think, that I'll make it up to you. Everything I've ever messed up on. And we'll be okay._

 _Okay._

* * *

Kit Odair had, quite literally, grown up without a father. So he thought to himself sometimes, when he had too much spare time and hadn't taken the chance to distract and busy himself as he typically did, that he'd only grown up with half the chance he could've had at being - being happy, he thought, but that was a bit cruel to think about and he didn't want to ever hurt someone as much as thinking about that did, even if that someone was himself.

It was still an excuse, after all.

When he was little, probably no older than six of seven and he hadn't had his growth spurt yet to tower over most everyone he met, he remembered going up to Annie once and asking her why she was crying, because he barely knew what tears were at that age and he couldn't understand why they were rolling down her cheeks when nothing recently had really happened to evoke them. And she'd looked at him as if he was the most precious thing in the world and pulled him close, continuing to cry even though his face was now buried in the soft material of her dress. He didn't ask any more questions, after that. But he didn't need to. He understood only a few years later, when it kept happening and he forced himself to stop being ignorant and realize that there must be a reason for all of this, for all of the pain caused to their small family that he was fine with. He was fine with it, always. What had scared him when he was younger was the fact that he was worried that Annie might not be.

Loss had made him wonder things like if he was good enough to stop Annie from having her nightmares every night, and for quite a bit of his life he'd believe that the answer was no. Because no matter what he did, she would always remain grieving over Finnick and maybe he couldn't ever fill that gap.

Maybe he wasn't meant to.

It was incredibly difficult to stop blaming himself for whenever she suffered, but eventually he was able to convince himself that it wasn't completely his fault. It wasn't anybody's fault, really, he thought; he could believe, and he could get Annie to believe as well, that life just wanted to test them out a bit every once in a while and all that was left to do for the both of them was to try and get past it with the little strength they had left.

Kit found it ironic that the more losses they had, the weaker they became, but the more strength they needed to overcome it. There were times when he truly believed that he was Annie's only lifeline at the moment and exactly the other way around as well and it took him quite a few years to realize that this kind of a relationship was _okay_. It wasn't normal, sure, but it didn't mean that it was exactly wrong, because they were still depending on each other like they should and it didn't mean that they were any more weak than the others; it didn't mean that it wasn't okay to cry.

So if that was the only way to get over loss, then he could live with it. It was just the natural sort of process of life, he'd learned, but it was nearly impossible to go through that without someone else.

And it made everything more important, blew things into proportion some more, when you had someone to protect, he found. If he was alone through it all, there would've been times he would've simply just given up because he couldn't find the point in trying to go on some more with no reward for doing so - whereas if he had someone else that he needed to keep on the surface as well, then he needed to keep them safe or else he'd go insane with the guilt himself. He would let himself drown, but the case where he let someone that he loved - which was a rare word, at this point in time - go under then he would never forgive himself for it. Everything became more important. It became easier to fight.

For protection.

For love.

For family, and friends, and all the other beautiful people in the world who deserved it.

Because loss spread far too easily to far too many people, and he doubted that there really could be a person in the world who hadn't experienced the feeling. So there was no more point in the bitter words thrown in its way when all that needed to be done was just to stand tall.

And with his height, that wasn't altogether very difficult to do.


	3. Chapter 3

So to know that what he'd previously thought was completely true because it was his own life, after all, was supposedly only a figment of someone's imagination confused Kit more so than anything else. It was as if everything he'd thought to be constant, which wasn't much even, was all just a lie and he had no idea what he should call reality anymore still, because if that much had happened and when he was brought into the Convergence he realized that his life was simply fiction, then what was to say that everything now would slip out of his fingertips soon enough?

Except he'd even brought himself to realize that with that sort of a mindspace it's be essentially the equivalent to choosing that everything was reality, instead. Maybe it'd even be easier to believe that everything was a reality - because there would be less worries, and less night staring wide-eyed at the ceiling for the sole fact that he couldn't sleep without twitching every few seconds.

 _When there's an indefinite multiverse, there is no such thing as fiction._

 _Right?_

He didn't have room for questions anymore, he thought. They were nothing except complications and he liked things simple - always had, mostly because his life was preferably filled with things that made everything a bit more difficult to handle when there were times when he truly just wished that he could sleep for a bit, ignore all the problems though he knew that was just an easy way for them to get increasingly worse. The more he pushed it off, the harder it became to fix and the more he wished it would go away.

So with that logic, then, maybe everything was just a loop, over and over again, and if that theory was true then he hated the idea of it. If there was a person running the world, behind all of it, or if life really did just watch him and make his decisions for him, then he wondered why whoever they were thrived off of so much pain, like the more he and the ones he loved hurt then the better show it made for them and the thought made him surprisingly _bitter._ He was a generally sweet person, he thought; he was okay with most things because he'd come from worse roots, more likely, and it didn't seem so bad in comparison but he had his times when he boiled over as well, and they might've just been healthy because he needed some sort of outlet for all the anger that would build up within him the more he saw people helplessly pushed around. He wanted to reach out to them. He always wanted to reach out and help them, but he'd noticed that whenever he tried they would continually slip out of his reach, and so he would start running after them because he thought that they truly needed his help.

But they were faster, for some reason. And this would always confuse him. So he would push himself harder, strides long and covering distance within a few seconds only to find that it had little to no effect. They needed him, though, he was sure, so as sweat started to roll in beads down his neck he would chase after them relentlessly until the breath was knocked out of him and they were growing smaller and smaller, eventually just disappearing into the distance and he couldn't tell why he'd put so much effort into helping someone else. Or maybe the someone he was trying to help was himself, so that the guilt wouldn't weigh him down or so that he could live with the knowledge of knowing that he stopped someone else from having to go through what he did.

And yet, at the same time, a tiny little voice in his mind that was solely fueled by any and all hate that he had thought that they deserved it. Because if he'd gotten it, why shouldn't they? Why shouldn't they get to feel just a glimpse of what he'd had to experience? Wasn't it only fair, after all?

He would slow to a stop, finding that his breath wouldn't come to him fast enough and that he was far from the place where he'd first started. So whoever he'd been going after had not only escaped from grasp, but had led him away from his home while doing so and he could feel the frustration coming back to him as he looked around, trying to figure out his surroundings. Everything looked like a swirl of colors just coming together to make a monotone gray everywhere, surrounding him, and for a moment he wondered what was happening or where he even was. Maybe this was some sort of a limbo, or maybe it was just his own mind that he was trapped in. Either of them seemed like possibilities to him.

His fingers extended to touch what looked like the surface, but it only passed right through his fingers with no effect. How curious.

It must've been a metaphor, he realized. A metaphor that maybe nothing was as real as it seemed, and that he could be tricking himself with every passing moment and not realize it until he tried to trust it. All that was left now was what he decided to do with it.

At the moment, he wasn't quite sure.

Maybe that was okay.


	4. Chapter 4

_I like remembering the smaller things in life, back when I was in my own world and I didn't have to worry about anything else besides whether or not my typical coffee was a cinnamon latte to-go. Whether or not I spilled it on my hand because I did that once in my rush to get to my building, which was a problem easily solved in an unnecessary amount of napkins from the bathroom. Unlike the problems here, where I have to think carefully before I even take a step forward because whoever's behind the world - or whoever is taking humor in watching me struggle through whatever this strange life is, because I'm sure there's one out there - must just like switching things up all too often for my likings. Which is just another way of saying that I wish I was still on that train going away from Barry, and from Central City, and everything else._

 _Except if I really think about it, I wonder if it would've been better like that. When in this strange world just composed of other ones I've gotten to realize that there's people who've had it so much worse than me and manage to just make it through with the brightest expressions they can muster and I find that pretty admirable, firstly, before the jealousy kicks in and I wish that I could be that kind of a person as well. I suppose I could always change myself to be that kind of a person. But I haven't. I'm trying to, though. I think._

 _In this world, I've gotten a chance to slow down and just... think. Just wonder if my decisions really were right after all and be glad that a Barry who's not in love with me anymore is here. Just think that in a world where no one can die, where new beginnings are just a natural part of life that everyone except for me has seemed to adapt to. I need to open my eyes. I need to clear my head. I need to figure out what's so wrong with me that everyone else is used to unpredictability and I still can't wrap my head around why I'm here in the first place._

 _But nobody really can, though. That's the thing, here; nobody knows why it happens but most of them just accept it and move on, making the best of things when I can't past the first step. I'm at the point in my life where I can't really tell if that's a bad thing because my method of getting by is simply just wishing to go back home - while there's some sort of devil in my mind that's telling me that it'd just be better for everyone if I stayed. Maybe that's just an excuse. I've been making those up a lot recently, too._

 _There's nice things too, though. Like when I decided to step into the flower shop because I wanted to clear my mind and the scent of flowers hit me across the face and I could just remember being little and running through weeds like they were roses. Like when I tipped my head up so that I could actually see the moon on one of the weird days it was full and I remembered the light just shining down on the streets of Central City to fill everything up. Or when I was walking down the beach and I decided to take my shoes off because I hadn't felt the sand between my toes in far too long and I didn't mind in the least when it stuck to my feet because I was overcome by something that I could only describe as nostalgia._

 _Nostalgia: a sentimental longing or wistful affection for the past, typically for a period or place with happy personal associations. It fit. There were moments when this feeling hit me and I could just believe, even if only for a little bit, that everything could be okay because nothing mattered except for that moment._

 _Maybe that's a better way to live it. I wouldn't know. I just have my moments._

 _-_ Patty Spivot


	5. Chapter 5

"I always wondered why your favorite place to be was by the fire," Cecily commented quietly, stepping into the room with only a tiny part of her hoping that she'd scare her brother even just a little bit. No such luck, though. Not that she was expecting much, at this point. He was a stone. Or he was, at least. She was perfectly aware that he was trying not to be, but it was difficult to grow out of old bad habits that you'd almost killed yourself with and the best she could do in reply was love him for the fact that he was still willing to try. For people like her, and Jem, and Tessa, and all the other ones in the world who loved him because there were certainly more than he thought there were. He'd always thought things that couldn't be in the least possible true and told her she was the one who was naive. She found that ironic.

Will only glanced up from his intent staring at the floorboards, and she gazed down there as well if only to see if there was something interesting about them that caught his attention for some reason. She couldn't find anything, though, and put it down to that the reason that he would be starin would be that he had nowhere else to look, and he needed somewhere to focus all the hate he had because she knew when he got into these phases he was pondering over life. He was regretting all the choices he'd made but if you asked her, doing so was pointless in the aspect that the things had already happened and there was nothing that he could do to change them now. All he could do was just fix the future. He couldn't seem to wrap his mind around this yet, though, and she was willing to give him time.

Even though there was a point where she got impatient as well. She'd been waiting years just to see him again and longer after that for him to realize that had the curse been true, she would've been dead long ago. For now, though, as long as he didn't get the wrong ideas in his head all over again, she'd wait.

"Why are you here? Charlotte sent me to get you, missing out on breakfast isn't exactly the best start to the day." She kept her distance from him still, watching him carefully for a cue that it was okay to move closer. He was still unpredictable. He always had been. It was just a part of him, and she'd accepted that. In order to love a person, you had to love their flaws as well - after all, it was what made them more human, anyway. Will, on the other hand, seemed set on the idea that his flaws were the reason that everyone supposedly "hated" him for so long, which was why he took them and used them to the best of his extent. Apparently he didn't think that someone would make those flaws into who he was, just as a person.

Will took a few moments to answer, looking out the window now before his blue eyes settled on hers and from there it was just a staring contest that she knew from the start she had no chance at winning but tried anyway. His gaze had some sort of feature that made his piercing stare look like it came with no effort and while she'd tried to practice that so that she could use it on him she doubted it was working very well. Her eyes were always too wide, too curious. Always filled with too much love.

"I know, I just - " He stopped again, gesturing wildly with his hands in a move that she didn't altogether understand but his frustration in everything came across to Cecily loud and clear and she decided that this was the right time, now, to come up behind him and wrap her arms tightly around him like the close she held him the less likely he was to disappear. She pressed a light kiss to the back of his head even though she had to push herself onto the tips of her toes in order to do so, before burying her head in his shoulder and closing her eyes to stop the tears threatening to gather already. She didn't like crying. It was a waste of water.

"We've got tea and crumpets and all of us gathered around one big, long table," she chuckled quietly. "What more do you need?"

He looked over his shoulder to meet her eyes only to find them slightly teasing - the best way to get him to relax, she'd discovered, by making the situation just lighter in a competition which he dominated at. He always knew the right way to annoy her on a certain day and she hated that but loved it all the same. It was a strange relationship between siblings. The small smile on his face, then, was enough for her and she nearly jumped out of excitement that she'd managed to convince him today, skipping back toward the doorway with his hand in hers, now. It was cold and bigger and almost limp but she still grasped it with all the strength that she had because she knew that it wouldn't hurt him, not in the least. She just needed to keep him by her side.

Pain was a strange thing, she thought. Both of them had been through so much of it and yet here they were, she leading him with her typical bright smile to eat breakfast with the other people that she now considered a family and him finally giving in before she knew he couldn't resist her adorableness. Maybe it was because they'd found a reason to ignore it. They'd found an excuse to drown it out. They'd found something to make up for any and everything that had ever hurt them before and Cecily Herondale thought that was a beautiful thing, really.

Then again, she thought everything was beautiful. Was there a reason for them not to be?


	6. Chapter 6

Kit was restless, and worried, and most likely stressing over every little small detail as well because he was fairly new at this and still had no idea how to distinguish the line between what was right and wrong in a situation like this. He had little prior experience and all of it was with her, anyway, but still - it was what they considered a date because it wasn't aimlessly wandering around and talking over life and things so much as actually planning and doing something together. And he was cooking. Which usually wasn't a problem for him because he had practice in that, at least, but it was quite possible that he'd accidently burn the food since his mind was wandering off in every which way and he could not keep track of it at all.

Even his clothing had been put into extreme thought though it was simply just one of his nicer, plain t-shirts and a pair of freshly washed jeans, because he was wondering that because this was a casual date whether or not he should dress up or pretend that everything was normal, that this was another one of their chance encountered meetings for which he was never prepared. She would be wearing a nice summer dress, if he knew her well at all, probably dotted with flowers but looking beautiful on her nonetheless because she could pull of just about anything, he thought - and if she was wearing a dress then did that mean that he had to wear something fancier, like a button-up, or could he just pull off his daily attire for a date that he considered to be as serious as this one was though if he thought about it then he supposed it wasn't really -

And he was rambling in his own head, again.

He took a breath to calm himself, checking on the food he'd prepared as well. It was simple and, therefore, he was hoping that she wasn't expecting something fancy or more than that because he was only accustomed to making enough food to get by with the little supplies that he had. But suddenly, pulled into the Convergence, he had an entire store and more at his fingertips and he wanted to at least try something new for his own experience while hoping that he could keep it safe enough so that his food would actually taste good. He knew enough about her to understand that if she didn't like it, she'd try her hardest not to show it and promise him that it was delicious but she was a terrible actor and he could see right through her, anyway. He loved and appreciated those things about her; but he was trying not to trigger that sort of a reaction in the first place.

Now he was just wandering, or pacing, really, back and forth through their flat in front of the kitchen so that he could monitor the food and make sure that it didn't magically disappear before his eyes because he was fairly sure that this was actually a possibility, waiting for Lucy to knock on the door since he'd sent her out for hours to do whatever she liked.

When the sound came, though, he still somehow wasn't prepared and nearly jumped, spending probably a few moments too many calming himself down again because he was a mess of nerves at the moment that needed to be sorted out. Lucy, on the other hand, on the other side of the door when he opened it for her didn't seem in the least nervous and offered him a bright smile when she walked in, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek while glancing around. "So, what first? I'm awfully excited, I must say, because I'm sure whatever you did will be wonderful."

She beamed at him and he almost felt like there was more pressure on his shoulders because of it, but he could feel himself already just relaxing in her presence alone and he followed her, nudging the door closed with his foot. "I was thinking food, if you'd like? And then a movie? Or the other way around, I'm really just fine with anything - "

Lucy cut him off, pressing two hands to his chest and shaking her head. "You worry too much. I'm just happy you did this for me. It doesn't need to be anything grand, doesn't need to be anything special, because I know it's just something for me."

Kit thought over that for a moment, brows knitting together in thought before she laughed and brought him out of the slight trance he was in, again. He gave her a soft smile as well, her words still echoing in his mind and he wondered for a moment if he had simply just been wrong in thinking that this night was all about impressing her, because it wasn't. It was about spending time with her. It was about thanking the fact that he'd met a person like her who'd managed to open his eyes more than anyone else he'd ever met before through the process of curling up with her and a good movie that he wasn't going to pay the least attention to.

 _Huh._

 _Look at that._


	7. Chapter 7

_So what if... what if endings really just don't exist?_

 _Does that mean everything is just a circle, over and over again?_

 _And is that a good thing?_

Cecily was confused, really, more so than anything else but she figured that much was given since she was trapped in a confusing place with emotions too complicated for herself to sort out, even. She didn't really want to sort them out, either; because maybe in the process of doing so she'd realize something that she didn't want to realize, or maybe she would figure out what she truly wanted and it wouldn't be what she initially thought. So, in that way, things might've just been better confusing more than the other way around. Which was a strange way of thinking about it and probably not a healthy mindspace, either, but it was necessary, in her eyes.

If endings weren't real and everything repeated itself as it had a tendency to, she'd noticed, then maybe that wasn't necessarily a bad thing, either. It just made things a bit more confusing but nothing else, really. It might give her a chance to do some things over. Might give her a chance to make sure that she didn't repeat all the mistakes she'd ever made that had managed to both ruin her life and introduce new things to her. Would she have become the person she was now if she hadn't wanted to take back time so badly? She doubted that the answer was yes, but there was always that tiny voice in the back of her mind convincing her that she was never in the wrong.

It was movie night, for the both of them, though she just called it that in her head because they hadn't ended up truly establishing proper names for everything. Their relationship was more improvised when both of them had free time or simply just wanted to see each other, and Cecily almost appreciated that even more because it was almost less worrisome. Really, it was just a night when she went over to his flat because she was lonely and he'd invited her in because Cass was out, as per usual, and they'd curled up on the couch together with some cheesy romantic comedy, in his words, not hers, after popping an entire bag of popcorn and digging out the chocolate he had in his pantry. Oh, and making some tea. She was the one who'd gotten him into that habit.

The lights were off so that the blue light radiating out from the screen was the only thing filling up the room, and she'd never stopped marveling over how wonderful it was that the world had evolved enough after her time to have moving pictures in color and high quality so that all the lines were sharp and defined. It was like real life, she thought, give for the plot that she wondered could ever happen because it seemed like something out of a fairy tale - then again, so did her own relationship, so she supposed she wasn't really one to talk, was she?

Neither of them were focused on the movie, she knew. They were both there for the sake of being with each other and staying in one place because she drifted off aimlessly without warning and there were moments when she just wanted to stay by his side. This was one of those moments where she didn't care in the least what they were doing - so long as they were doing it together, because that was all that mattered, right?

Spontaneously, with no warning at all, she leaned over and kissed him lightly. His lips were always warm on hers, she'd noticed, though the one time when she'd extended a finger to them she thought they were rather cold instead. He tilted his head at her, an amused smile in his eyes though there was mild confusion in them as well, and she hurried to explain herself before he could even ask why she'd done it.

"I just wanted to see if we could relive history together."

His brows furrowed together cutely and Cecily chuckled to herself, shaking her head before settling next to him again, eyes on the screen once more. "Relive history? Why?"

She took a moment to think over that, before giving a small shrug of her shoulders and closing her eyes. "Because the history we have is beautiful, is it not? So I want our history to be out future, and I want our future to be our history. Does that make sense?"

"Not at all."

"That's fine. I didn't expect it to."


End file.
